


burning one hell of a something...

by startswithhope



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cooking Lessons, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, some canon elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-04-23 15:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19154161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startswithhope/pseuds/startswithhope
Summary: Bad ventilation, burnt steak and an obnoxious fire alarm, all the ingredients needed for Patrick to meet David and spark a very different kind of flame.(this is pure flirty fluff with AU and canon interspersed, spread over 6 short chapters that I’ll be posting over consecutive days)





	1. the spark...

For the second time in three days, he’s standing outside of his apartment building waiting for the fire department to give the all clear. This time at least it’s not 11:30 at night, but a more respectable 7:13 pm and he’s still in his work clothes and not pajama pants and t-shirt. Tuesday’s fire alarm situation had been a cold one. The small collection of his neighbors are scattered around the sidewalk, all wearing the same look of annoyance and impatience. All except one. He’d spied this guy before at their mailboxes a few times, his striking hairstyle and black and white wardrobe designed to not be missed. And sure, Patrick had also cataloged his attractive face and great ass, but those details have been placed in a box in Patrick’s brain he’s currently labeled as “confusing thoughts” that just isn’t being dealt with.

He does peek in that box a little more every day, though. And maybe things really aren’t as confusing as he’s making them out to be.

But back to his intriguing neighbor. The one currently trying to hide behind the wide tree at the end of the sidewalk and the one with a black oven mitt still covering his right hand. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that this man is the one responsible for this evening’s excursion. Curiosity has him walking the few steps to the tree, leaning casually against the trunk on the other side from where his neighbor is currently cowering.

“Kitchen mishap, I presume?”

“Huh? What?” The man’s voice is high pitched and melodic, obviously startled, and perhaps a bit defensive. Patrick leans to the left, catching his neighbor’s eye so he can give him a friendly smile. God, he’s even more attractive up close, with those smoldering brown eyes and deep set dimples.

“The oven mitt,” he says as he points down at the man’s hand, watching as he looks down at it and lets out a dramatic sigh. The man’s face goes on a lengthy journey with multiple detours and pit stops and Patrick’s smile widens, watching him as if he’s an addictive TV show he just can’t stop binging.

“Ugh. Okay, yes. I may have set off the fire alarm, but I insist that it is not my fault, but the poor standards of ventilation in this run down hellhole I’m destined to die in.”

Patrick can’t stop himself from laughing at that and pushes himself off the tree, turning fully towards his neighbor so he can finally, hopefully, put a name to this very interesting face.

“Well, before that happens, I should introduce myself. I’m Patrick,” he says as he extends his hand.

“David,” the man replies, forgetting about the oven mitt as he reaches his hand out as well, and Patrick grabs it before he can pull his hand back.

“Nice to meet you, David.” Patrick’s smile is taking over his entire face, he can feel it, but David is smiling now, too, as Patrick shakes his oven mitt covered hand as if there’s absolutely nothing strange about that at all.

When David pulls his hand back the oven mitt comes off in Patrick’s grip and they both laugh and Patrick puts another thought into that little box. He thinks that he wants to do whatever it takes to make David laugh again, as often as possible.

“You should keep that, I really can’t be trusted with it.” David’s hands are now perched on the very expensive looking black sweater just falling over his narrow hips.

“So, this wasn’t your first kitchen nightmare?”

David’s nose scrunches up and he looks down at his black and white chucks. “Uh, no. I guess you missed Tuesday’s alarm, then?”

Patrick’s eyes widen and he clutches the oven mitt to his chest. “That was you, too?”

“There was cheese. And folding, which somehow had to do with the cheese…” David’s voice has risen a full octave as his hands begin gesticulating towards their building, “...and then there was burning, lots of burning.”

Patrick hasn’t been this amused in ages and he leans back against the tree again, just taking David in as he continues to talk about cheese. He’s like no one Patrick has ever met. And Patrick never wants this conversation to end.

“Okay, so I take it you’re rather new to using a kitchen?” he ventures, treading lightly so as not to make David feel stupid or more embarrassed than he already obviously does.

“I’ll have you know that kitchens are usually my favorite room in a house, but technically, yes, outside of opening and closing a refrigerator, I’m a bit of a novice.”

The self confidence dripping from that statement is a thing to behold. It isn’t often you hear someone admit to a deficiency so openly.

“So, why the sudden interest in attempting to cook?” Patrick questions, wanting to keep this conversation going to get to know as much about David as he’s willing to share.

David’s eyes close briefly and Patrick finds himself staring at how long his eyelashes are as they push into his cheekbones. What an odd thing to notice…

“That’s a very long story, one maybe for another time…” David trails off, his voice somewhat wistful as he looks past Patrick to where the firefighters are now exiting their building.

Sensing a moment, one that is quickly passing, Patrick pushes off the tree again and takes a quick step towards David.

“I’d be happy to cover the bases with you, if you want?” As soon as the offer is out there, he realizes just how nervous he is for the answer.

“I don’t know what that means, I don’t play cricket.”

And that, is not what he was expecting. Smiling fondly at David, he feels his cheeks heat a bit as he tries to be a bit more direct. “I’m a pretty good cook and I’d be happy to teach you a few basics, if you’re interested.”

David’s eyebrows shoot up and Patrick braces himself for rejection.

“Uh, I think I’m good, but thank you,” David says, “I’ll try not to burn the place down next time.”

The disappointment Patrick feels is palpable, but he does his best to not let it show, keeping a smile plastered on his face as they both turn and begin to walk back towards the now cleared building.

“If you change your mind, I’m in 1C,” he says with as much nonchalance he can muster, holding the door open for David as they reach the entrance. Patrick doesn’t have to go upstairs, but he lingers hoping to get some sort of response from David that can be deemed as promising.

“Uh, thanks.” is all David says, his mind seemingly already somewhere else as he begins to climb the stairs to his apartment.

“Nice to meet you, David,” Patrick can’t seem to stop himself from speaking now and he quickly turns towards his door, which thankfully is right there and a quick means of escape. He swears he hears David say something in return, but he can’t make it out over the loud pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears.

His first attempt at flirting with a guy has not gone well. Not at all.

But then he looks down and realizes he’s still holding David’s oven mitt. And hope springs anew that he might just have a second chance at it.


	2. stoking the fire...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie does some poking and prodding where Patrick is concerned, annoying David, while maybe opening his eyes to a few things.

David’s kitchen is a disaster area. The steak he’d been trying to cook is a charred lump on his one and only pan. And oh god - the vegetables, all of the onions, carrots and potatoes it had taken him almost an hour to peel and chop, are strewn all over the floor from when he’d dropped the baking sheet when the fire alarm had gone off. If he wasn’t such a clean freak, he’d leave everything exactly where it is, grab the pint of ice cream in the freezer and go crawl into bed.

But bugs are not a thing he can add to the deepening black hole of his existence here in this apartment, so he rolls up his sleeves and starts to clean. His stomach growls as he drops the steak into the trash can and he wishes he could just grab a credit card from his wallet and order himself a pizza.  But that’s not in his budget. Nothing he used to love is, not anymore. 

There’s a knock at his door and he cringes, hoping it isn’t his next door neighbor coming to chastise him for the fire alarm. She’s got a bit of an attitude, but usually it’s directed at other people and he finds her rather amusing. He’d hoped he’d never have to face Ronnie’s wrath, but after the fire alarm on Tuesday, she gave him quite the ear full. 

David breathes a sigh of relief when he sees who’s behind the door.

“What did you burn this time?” Stevie asks, dramatically lifting her open flannel shirt over her nose as she walks past David into his apartment.

“Steak, but it wasn’t my fault.”

“I know, I know...it’s the lack of ventilation, you mentioned that on Tuesday…”

“Well, as the property manager of this dump, it seemed like something you should know,” he snaps, free of any real bite, as this back and forth thing is just his and Stevie’s way. 

“You say that as if I have any real power in this situation. You’re hilarious.” Stevie is now lying on David’s couch with her feet up, her long dark hair cascading off the edge as she stares at the ceiling fan whirring annoyingly loud overhead. God, he really hates everything about this apartment. Except maybe Stevie and the cute guy he met tonight, but that’s not enough to tip the scales. Those caramel colored eyes of his though...they were something else...and now he’s hungry again.

As if she’s reading his mind, Stevie turns her head and gives him a pointed look. “I saw you talking to Patrick.”

“So what? He was just being nice.” David turns his back to her to wipe the grease splatter from his stovetop and to hide the blush he’s sure is creeping up the sides of his neck. His conversation with Patrick had been a fun distraction from his mortification, but that’s all. He’s as straight as a pin…

“Patrick  _ is _ nice. Which is why it was such a surprise seeing him talking to you for so long.” 

David turns at that and gives her the finger. Instead of responding in kind, she pushes to her knees and leans into the back of the couch, dropping her chin to her hands as if she’s Linus from the Peanuts cartoons and his couch is the ledge of the brick wall. 

“I like this for you,” she says with a sneaky smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief he honestly doesn’t understand. 

“Like what for me? Like that I know how to have a conversation with a cute guy?” As soon as he’s said that, he knows he’s fucked up.

“So you think he’s cute, then. Good first step.” 

Dropping his sponge into the sink, he turns on the water and garbage disposal, dropping the vegetables into it one by one as he stares Stevie down. After about 10 seconds it’s too much for his own ears and he turns the disposal off again, annoyed and flustered and really fucking hungry.

“I’m like 99% sure he’s straight. And I’m sure you saw his jeans. A guy who would wear those jeans is not the kind of guy who’d be into me. Trust me.”

“So, you checked out his ass? Good second step.” 

Stevie ducks just in time to avoid getting hit by a very wet sponge. And he immediately regrets throwing it as it lands on his coffee table, leaving a new mess for him to clean up. 

“Look David, I might not be an expert where dating is concerned, but I definitely saw the way Patrick was smiling at you. If you didn’t notice that, you need to get your eyes checked.”

Thinking back on it, David does have to admit that Patrick was a pretty smiley guy. But he’d honestly just chalked that up to him being nice. A lot of people in this apartment building have this nice gene that they must have been born with, because there is nothing about this place that David would qualify as  _ nice _ . As for his ass, well, the quality of the jeans did nothing to detract from it, he can’t deny that.

Stevie, unfazed by the one-sided conversation she’s currently having, just forges on. “What were you two talking about?”

David just shrugs and shakes the rest of the vegetables from the baking sheet into the sink. “My lack of cooking skills. It wasn’t anything revelatory.” Except for the fact that Patrick offered to teach him how to cook, but that was just him being nice. Right? There wasn’t anything behind that offer besides a desire to not have David set off the fire alarm again. That’s why he’d said no...wasn’t it? 

In all honesty, David doesn’t actually have a good answer for why he turned down Patrick’s offer. And now he’s feeling just a tiny pang of regret.

“Well, he’s kind of new in town and probably looking for a friend or two, so maybe make an attempt at being less like yourself the next time you see him, David. You never know when a friend can become a benefit…”

“I thought we agreed to never speak about that again,” David cuts her off, thankful that their brief foray into friends with benefits territory didn’t crash and burn the best, and maybe only,  friendship he’s ever had. 

“Point taken.” She’s on her feet and walking towards his door, but pauses and looks over at him where he’s still making a now distracted attempt at cleaning. “I’ve got half a bottle of wine and leftover chinese at my place. See you in a half hour?”

Oh, bless her and their shared fondness of MSG.

“I’ll bring the ice cream.”

As he finishes his cleaning and gets ready to head to Stevie’s apartment, he realizes something is missing. Patrick still has his one and only oven mitt.


	3. slow cooker...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for that oven mitt to be reunited with its owner.

Patrick is seconds away from falling asleep on the couch when he hears a soft knock on his front door. With it being a lazy Saturday afternoon, he’s in his favorite pair of worn in sweats and an old baseball raglan from his hometown baseball team, not exactly an outfit he’d normally wear for others to see. But he’s not one to leave someone standing outside his door, so he runs a quick hand through his hair and goes to see who it is.

When he opens the door, he really wishes he was wearing something else.

“David. Hi.” His voice sounds too bright and he can’t seem to wipe the Christmas morning-sized smile from his face at seeing David standing there with a crooked smile of his own.

“Hi.” David seems a bit unsure, a stark contrast from the flustered, yet still confident man he’d met just a few days ago. It makes Patrick even more interested, if that’s even possible at this point.

“Did you want to come in?” he asks, holding his door open wider in welcome, hopeful that David will take him up on the offer.

“Oh, no, I just...I was hoping to get my oven mitt back?”

Rejected. Again. Patrick probably needs to put David in that “confusing thoughts” box of his and just throw away the key. But he’s been thinking about him nonstop since Thursday and that box of his, it’s been cracked wide open and all of those thoughts have been pouring out to be dealt with.

“Sure, let me just…” Patrick leaves David at the door and retrieves the oven mitt from where he’d hung it next to his own blue one on the front of the fridge. He’d been meaning to return it, but a part of him was curious if David would come asking for it and he’d also been working up the courage to make a second attempt at flirting.

“What’s that smell?” he hears David ask.

“Chili. It’s in the slow cooker over…” He stops talking as David steps into his apartment and walks right over to his kitchen counter. David lifts the lid off the chili and takes a long whiff and Patrick suddenly feels warm all over. With his eyes closed, he looks sinful, all long and lean limbs draped in layers of black from head to toe. He’s everything Patrick isn’t and it’s exciting just being in his presence.

David is still holding the lid to the slow cooker when he turns around to face Patrick, and Patrick wants to explain to him that slow cookers really work best with the lid on…

“Okay, I’m open to entertaining your offer of cooking lessons.”

It takes Patrick a second or two to find his voice as he feels a bit of whiplash at David’s sudden declaration.

“Great,” he eventually says, “but in the interest of us potentially cooking together, I did want to come clean about something.”

Finally closing the front door, Patrick walks over to the stove and puts his hand up to the switch along the wall. Keeping his eyes on David, he flips it up. Raising his voice to be heard, he half shouts, “Our ovens have an exhaust fan.”

David’s jaw drops just enough for Patrick to see that what he thought would be a funny little jab is in fact new information for David. Oh man, what is he getting himself into?

A half hour later, he’s sitting on his couch with David, both of them chowing down on a bowl of Patrick’s famous chili. He’d done a brief overview for David of everything he’d put in it and how to work the slow cooker and David, thankfully, seemed to take all of the new information in stride. He’s not dumb, far from it. He’s just, quite obviously, out of his element. And David can eat, which for some reason just makes him even more attractive.

“So, care to tell me your very long story?” he questions, really hoping David’s in a better mood to share a bit more about himself today. Patrick’s been conjuring up crazy scenarios in his head these past few days that might explain how someone like David is formulated into existence, but he’s fallen short of anything that seems at all plausible.

“Fine, but I’m doing the Cliff Notes version. The novel length would require lots of wine and some weed, neither of which I can afford right now.”

“I’m sure Stevie can help us in that department,” Patrick supplies, having caught Stevie blazing out just the other day behind the front desk. She wasn’t even trying to hide it, which Patrick had to respect for its sheer audacity.

“Yeah, but...no, can’t deal with her right now,” David mutters and Patrick senses there’s something behind that statement, but he just gives David an encouraging smile.

“Okay, long story short. I used to have money. Lots of it. And then I found out that my parents were literally paying for all of my customers at my gallery and I realized my entire life has been a fraud. And we got in a fight in which I foolishly told them I didn’t need them or their money anymore. And, unfortunately, they took me up on that and cut me off. So, now I’m living here. In this building. Starting from scratch and crying myself to sleep at night with the help of Tylenol PM cause I can’t afford the good stuff anymore. And to add a disgusting maraschino cherry to the top of that depressing sundae, I have almost zero basic life skills, outside of personal grooming, obviously.”

David got through all of that while looking down at his bowl of chili, silver ring laden fingers swirling the remnants with his spoon. Patrick wants to reach out and comfort him somehow, but he doesn’t really know David and showing physical affection for another man is still something he hasn’t had actual experience with. So, he just tries his best to break the tension.

“I think maybe we should have gotten some of Stevie’s weed after all.”

There’s a small smile on David’s face when he looks up at Patrick and it feels like a tiny victory.

“And the wine…”

Their eyes lock for a moment and Patrick feels his heart begin to race. He’s not imagining the natural chemistry between the two of them, is he? It’s like he’s in the midst of a dance, one with a lot of push and pull and footwork, but not so complicated that he feels he’s missing too many steps.

Feeling the need, and desire, he decides he should probably share a bit about himself.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m in a bit of a starting over phase of my life, too. So, we’re both treading into some new territory here, in a way.” Patrick knows that sounds a bit vague, but his move here has turned out to be a catalyst for what seems like an avalanche of changes he’s choosing to just roll with. The obvious affection he feels for David being one of them.

“If we had some wine, I’d suggest we cheers to that, but alas…”

“Oh, I’ve got wine.” Patrick didn’t mean to blurt that out so quickly, but if David wants to stay longer and drink some wine, he’s gonna get the wine.

David’s mouth is hanging open and Patrick can’t tell if the look on his face is one of confusion or amusement, but maybe it’s both.

“Okay...I...uh...should probably take a raincheck on that, but thank you, Patrick, for…” he says as he lifts the bowl in his lap, “...this. And for offering to make sure I don’t starve.” He’s on his feet and heading to Patrick’s sink, his long, delicate fingers reaching for the dish soap and sponge.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he says as he jumps to his feet, coming up behind David to stop him from washing the bowl. Their hands land on the faucet at the same time and the static energy between them expands to feel like a crack of lightning, and oh fuck, he’s really in trouble here. He’s pretty sure he’s not alone in whatever is happening either, especially when David takes a tiny step backwards, bringing his back closer to Patrick’s chest. When David turns his head, their faces are mere inches apart and Patrick’s gaze falls to David’s lips, a trance like sensation falling over him as he watches David’s mouth twitch under the scrutiny.

His breath is going shallow and his stomach feels like it’s in the midst of a spin cycle as he sees David lean in and Patrick braces himself for…

“Fuck!” David is backing away suddenly, his hand sliding out from under Patrick’s on the faucet as he starts to shake his other one into the air. It’s only then that Patrick notices the steam rising from his sink.

“Shit, are you okay?” He reaches for the faucet again and turns it all the way cold, internally cursing the horrible plumbing in this place for ruining what really felt like was about to be a kiss. His first. With a man. His first with David. He’s not even pretending anymore that he hopes for there to be a second, a third, an infinite number if only they can figure out the first.

“Here, put your hand under the cold water.”

David does as he’s told and Patrick takes a few steps back, letting his eyes close for a second to regain his composure. When he feels a bit more centered he sees that David has turned off the water and is turning around to lean against the sink.

“This building really is trying to kill me,” David jokes as he dries off his hand on Patrick’s blue kitchen towel. “I told Stevie this, but she doesn’t believe me.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch.” He smiles at David and David smiles back and there’s that energy again, like a 4th of July sparkler that never seems to burn out. And now he’s picturing writing David’s name in the air with a trail of sparks on a muggy summer evening...

“So, I should go,” David says as he folds Patrick’s towel over the oven door handle where he’d found it, hands perfecting the crease much how Patrick imagines he folds his expensive sweaters after doing his laundry. He catches Patrick staring and Patrick just keeps his gaze firm, silently doing his best to communicate something to David, even if he isn’t entirely sure of what he’s trying to say.

David’s definitely blushing as he walks past Patrick to the door and he takes that as a bit of a win. Reaching around him, he opens the door for David and leans against it with a smile.

“I’ve got a busy couple of days ahead, but maybe Tuesday night for lesson number two?” He makes zero effort to hide the eagerness in his voice and he’s sure David hears it.

“Sure. My place or yours?”

Patrick’s only ever heard that question in fictional scenarios, romantic comedies or cheesy television shows, so having David say it to him gives him more than a little bit of a thrill.

“Let’s give you home field advantage and meet at your place.”

“Luckily, I’ve seen a tennis match or two and I know what that means. See you at 7:30?” David has stepped out into the hallway and is looking at Patrick for confirmation.

Amused and not feeling the need to correct him, Patrick nods, “What’s your apartment number?”

“Oh, 7B.” David turns to walk up the stairs, but pauses on the second step. “And you might want to come up with the menu...and bring some utensils...whatever you…”

“I’ll take care of everything, David.” Patrick’s chest feels full and some of his usual confidence is settling back in. He’s always been a take charge kind of guy and this thing with David doesn’t have to be any different. He can do this.


	4. let's get cooking...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's never a wrong time for pancakes.

Tuesday night, standing in David’s kitchen with his one charred pan and no wooden spoons in sight, Patrick is both appalled and invigorated, realizing quickly that teaching David how to cook is going to take many, many lessons. And he’s glad that he remembered to put David’s oven mitt that he had forgotten to take on Saturday in his box of supplies. He doesn’t see another one anywhere.

“Okay, so, first things first.” He can feel David’s eyes on him as he grabs one of David’s chairs and carries it into the hallway outside of the kitchen. Carefully, he steps up onto it so he can unscrew the fire alarm from the ceiling and unplug it from the connector.

“Wait, that just comes off?” David is staring up at him in disbelief and Patrick just smiles and hands him the fire alarm so he can have both hands to climb back off the chair. He nearly stumbles when he feels David’s hand come up to lightly grip his elbow to steady him. Fuck, he needs to have a conversation with his body if only to stop it from freaking out over every friendly touch. What is it going to do when there is a less than friendly touch thrown into the mix? God, he hopes to find out.

Back on his feet and in control of himself again, he finally answers David’s question. “One thing you learn living in cheap apartments is you have to take off the fire alarm whenever you cook anything on your stove. Even with the exhaust fan, those things will go off with just the tiniest whiff of candle smoke.”

David is looking at him like he hung the moon, which is helping his inner confidence monster  breathe to life. “That’s very impressive,” he says, eyes warm as he places the fire alarm down on his hall table. 

There’s nothing truly special about it, but Patrick smiles and gestures David to follow him back into the kitchen. He starts digging into the box he brought with him, pulling out his best frying pan, rubber spatula and a carton of eggs.

“I know it’s not morning, but I thought we’d start with breakfast. You okay with eggs, bacon and pancakes for dinner?”

“There is never a wrong time for pancakes, Patrick.”

David reaches out to take the stick of butter and pancake mix from Patrick’s hand and their fingers brush and Patrick does his best to school his reaction this time. He doesn’t have to know that Patrick feels like he just woke up from a 30 year long nap and the world around him has changed completely. Every interaction with David, no matter how small, feels important and weighty and it’s admittedly a bit unnerving.

Sooner than he would have expected, his nerves have calmed a bit and he and David have fallen into an easy groove. David overcooked his first attempt at scrambled eggs, but his second try came out perfect and they shared a plate leaning into the counter as they chatted about nothing in particular. He learns a bit more about David’s family, especially his sister Alexis, who David speaks about with utter annoyance dripping off his tongue, but with more than a tinge of envy curling around the edges. He has a feeling there’s more love there than David is prepared to admit. Or maybe there could be, if more time was spent together. But Patrick comes from a very close knit family (perhaps a bit too close), so he may be projecting here a bit.

The smell of bacon crisping in the oven has filled the small kitchen with the best aroma and  thoughts of Patrick’s family shift into something more vivid. He’s suddenly imagining this scenario playing out on an actual morning, him and David having spent the early hours lazy in bed, only pulled from each others arms by the smell of the bacon cooking that Patrick had popped in between sleepy kisses. David, he assumes, is a bit grumpy in the morning, needing food and coffee to draw him out of bed, while Patrick is an early riser, happy to climb back under the sheets to wake David up in more interesting and enjoyable ways… 

He realizes he’s stopped giving David directions as he’s still whisking the pancake batter and finds David staring at him with amused impatience. Maybe starting with breakfast wasn’t the best idea after all…

“It’s okay if you still see a few lumps in the batter,” he says as he clears his throat and continues his instructions, “it’s best to not overwork it if you want the pancakes to be fluffy.”

David lifts the whisk from the bowl and looks to Patrick for approval. “This look good?”

“Perfect.” He’s looking at David’s face, not the batter, but he’s sure it looks good as well.

The cooking of the pancakes is a test of his patience. The first three range from burnt to raw as David can’t seem to just leave them alone as they cook in the pan. He’s picking up on some anxiety from David and steps in behind him, placing his hands on David’s upper arms in an  attempt to get him to relax. 

“See those little bubbles popping up,” he says besides David’s ear, “we want to see a lot of those before we turn the pancake over. Why don’t you just…” He wraps his hand around David’s forearm and gently guides it down until the hand holding the spatula lets go to place it back on the spoon rest in the center of the stove. Yes, he could have just told David to put the spatula down, but where’s the fun in that? And he isn’t picking up on any resistance from David in response to his proximity. 

“You’re either very impatient, or extremely sure of yourself,” David jokes, but he doesn’t pick up the spatula again until Patrick tells him to, which he chalks up as a win. If Patrick stays in close behind him for the duration of the cooking of the pancakes, it’s just to be helpful, and not because David smells amazing enough to eat. Patrick has to stop himself from burying his nose into the back of David’s neck, even if there’s a big part of him curious as to how David would respond.

Over entirely too soon, the end of the lesson has David with a plate of two decent looking pancakes and one for Patrick, knowing without having to ask that the extra would go to his star pupil. The bacon came out perfect on the first try, which David took as a personal victory considering he’d done that all by himself. He’d never heard of baking bacon in the oven on a cooling rack, but he was very happy about how less messy it all was in the end. Patrick feels full and happy, lounging comfortably on David’s couch, watching David eat his last piece of bacon with a satisfied expression on his face. 

Easy. That’s what this night has been. His physical attraction to David aside, he also really likes him and senses that David likes him in return. Not romantically, at least he can’t be sure, but there’s a natural sort of friendship already developing and Patrick breathes an internal sigh of relief. He’s really needed to find some friends here and even if nothing more than that comes out of this, Patrick will be thankful for what he can get. 

Of course, he wants more, but he’s happy to take his time figuring that out. He tries to remind himself of that as he watches David lick the shiny bacon grease from his bottom lip. Before he realizes he’s doing it, Patrick’s own tongue has come out to mirror the movement, but he quickly catches himself before David notices. Excusing himself to the kitchen, he uses the counter to hide the fact that he needs to adjust himself, pressing his palm into the erection threatening to spring to life in his jeans. He tries to think of unappealing things, like mold or snakes, and not how badly he wants to know how David tastes and what his lips will feel like pressed against his own. He imagines kissing David won’t be at all like kissing Rachel, or the handful of other girls he’s kissed...and crap, he really needs to think about something else. 

_Fuck_ , this is going to be harder than he thought.   
  



	5. a gentle simmer...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie knows best...

“Where did you get this mask, by the way?” David is staring at his face in Stevie’s bathroom mirror, carefully dabbing the remnants of the foil package into the soft skin under his eyes. He read on Goop that you can cause premature aging if you aren’t extremely careful with your under eye area.

“Free sample that came in Jocelyn’s magazine. I was bored and needed something to read and it was just sitting there in her mailbox.”

“You do realize that’s technically stealing, right?”

“Whatever.” Stevie appears in the doorway, her face also covered in the foamy green mask they’re sharing, making her resemble a sick raccoon.

“That’s a good look for you,” he jokes, happy he has someone in his life who he feels completely comfortable around in Stevie. Without her, he’s not sure if he’d have survived this long.

“It’s nice to see you wearing some color. It’s been all black and white since I’ve known you...except for the occasional red on your cheeks, but that’s only when Patrick’s around.”

She manages to just escape the snap of the towel David attempts to hit her with. Fixing her with a death glare, he goes back to looking at himself in the mirror, thankful for the mask covering yet another blush triggered by the mere mention of Patrick Brewer. It’s been a few weeks since they’ve started cooking together and David can say with absolute certainty that he’s got a hopeless crush. But he’s been burned way too many times and isn’t at all confident yet as to Patrick’s intentions. He’s attentive and friendly, helpful and sweet, but he hasn’t made any obvious moves since their one almost moment that afternoon at Patrick’s sink. David had been pretty confident that something was brewing there, but that stupid faucet had poured hot water over the moment and nothing close to that has happened since. Well, outside of a few unexpected touches and long looks, but that’s normal, right?

“I don’t know why you insist on teasing me about him, Stevie. Nothing is happening there.”

The words sound like a lie to his own ears. 

“David, that man flirts with you nonstop. Do you not remember the wine incident?”

Throwing his hands in the air out of frustration, he turns to Stevie to find her smirking at him from the foot of her bed.

“We shared a glass of wine. What’s the big deal?” He knows the answer to this and knows Stevie will tell him exactly why it was a big deal, because she just can’t help herself.

“He told you he thought you had a dirty mouth and then took a big sip of your wine, David. I almost excused myself from the apartment after that so I could avoid walking in on the two of you finally fucking each other’s brains out in the bathroom.”

“Okay,” he says with a quick shake of his head, “let’s talk about something else, please. Like, what’s going on with you?” 

David hopes this change of subject will stick. Things with Patrick are confusing enough and Stevie isn’t helping. Plus, he hasn’t had enough time with his best friend and he actually wants to know what’s going on in her life. It’s a new experience for him, caring about someone platonically, who he isn’t related to. And unlike his sister Alexis, he doesn’t have to worry about Stevie getting kidnapped on some billionaire’s yacht. He’s certain Stevie has never even seen a yacht in real life and if she was to somehow stumble upon one, she’d be uninterested.

She looks down at her hands and seems suddenly nervous, a foreign characteristic to be sure. Stevie is always set to cool, almost unaffected and unapologetically herself. 

“Uh, so...I don’t want you to get mad, but...I’ve been talking with your Dad a bit, on the phone...”

The towel in David’s hand falls to the sink and his jaw goes slack at her ridiculous admission. “Excuse me? My dad? When...how…why?”

“He called the front desk looking for you and I told him to just call your cell, but he said he’d been leaving you messages that you aren’t returning. And then he started asking questions about me...and the building...and what I want to do with it. And I don’t know...he’s nice and has some good ideas….”

Stevie looks up at him and the expression he sees she’s trying to hide causes his heart to clench a bit in his chest. These last few months not speaking to his parents has been harder than he thought it would be. He actually misses being annoyed by his dad and the occasional mani/pedis he’d get with his mom. But Stevie, she’s been devoid of any parental involvement in her life for a long time and this conversation with his dad has obviously started to fill a very deep hole there. And he just can’t let her feel bad about that.

“Well, he did run the second largest video chain in the world, so that makes sense.” 

Stevie’s eyes widen at his nonchalance and he just shrugs, turning back to the sink to wash off the mask. Before he’s even gotten even half of it off, he feels Stevie slide in beside him, pushing her hip into his so she can get under the water, too. When their eyes meet in the mirror, faces dripping with green suds, he gives her a reassuring smile and she just shakes her head before trying to hide her own smile behind her hands. His tough little Stevie might have more of a gooey marshmallow center than he had previously thought.

“So, back to Patrick.” 

David huffs, which was a bad idea as he manages to inhale a mouthful of foamy face mask while Stevie just laughs beside him at the sink. 

“I thought we’d dropped this subject,” he manages to finally get out after coughing up a lung into the sink.

“You did, I didn’t.” Stevie is now turned fully towards him with one hand on her hip. “He’s good for you, David. And you’re obviously good for him. The two of you are like walking smiles, which let's be honest, makes me want to vomit whenever I see you.”

“Well isn’t that a romantic visual.” David is still wiping at non-existent mask remnants on his face so he doesn’t have to look Stevie in the eye. But she’s smarter than that and just swivels to meet his gaze in the mirror instead.

“I just don’t want you to shut yourself off from something good, David. As your best friend, it’s my job to call you out when I think you’re being a dumbass.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, feeling a certain kind of way at hearing her call him her best friend, even if it isn’t the first time she’s done it. She knows how hard it is for him to be open emotionally with someone, which is why she’s pushing. And yeah...maybe he’s not blind to the fact that he probably needs a good shove. 

“It’s my goal in life to make sure that’s a full time job for you,” he says with a smile, making sure she can see in his eyes how thankful he is, even if he can’t quite put that sentiment into words.

* * *

Later that night in his bed he finds some of his resolve where his parents are concerned begin to melt. He’ll later blame it on sleep deprivation or too much vodka and definitely Stevie, but he grabs his phone and sends his dad a quick text anyway.

**_David: “Thanks for talking with Stevie. And tell Mom I mastered her enchilada recipe.”_ **

He wakes up to two new texts, one from his dad and one from his mom.

**_Dad: That’s great, son. I’m very proud of you. And Stevie is a lovely young lady._ **

**_Mom: What enchilada recipe?_ **


	6. it's getting hot in here...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The teacher becomes the student.

Patrick can’t remember a time in his life when he’s been more nervous. David should be here any minute, but he’s been ready for two hours, anxiously pacing his apartment to the point of having to change his shirt after sweating through the pits. He’d been okay earlier, his nerves more manageable as he’d prepared for his first date with David. But then he ran into Stevie, who informed him that David had invited her to join them for David’s birthday dinner at Patrick’s and it became very clear that, well, he’d not been clear at all.

David had no idea Patrick was trying to ask him out. Had asked him out. Or at least he thought he had, when he’d stopped him in hallway two days ago and offered to cook him a birthday dinner. And David had agreed.

Luckily, Stevie managed to catch on even without being present for the asking and uninvited herself, giving Patrick a rather graphic pep talk, laying out exactly how he should make his feelings known. Patrick won’t be doing any of what she suggested, even if the thought of some of it makes him worry about needing another shirt. Getting a kiss or two is a more attainable goal for the night, after making sure David understands this is a date, of course.

To help set the mood, he’d set out a few candles around the room, found a soft 80’s pop radio station on his laptop, and even grabbed a bouquet of daisies from the bodega on the corner. It’s what he would have done if he was on a date with a girl, so he hopes the rules are the same in this situation. But then again, David makes him feel that rules are meant to be broken, so maybe he’s overthinking things a bit. David isn’t Rachel. That thought brings a bit of sadness to mind, wishing he could have spared Rachel so much heartbreak if he’d only come to these realizations about himself sooner. But his ex-fiancee isn’t here and hopefully has moved on and it’s time Patrick does as well. And quite honestly, there’s only so long he can beat himself up for past actions, or inaction, and the focus now needs to be on his own happiness.

The knock at his door pulls him from his thoughts and sets his nerves back on edge and he takes a slow breath in and out. He can do this. Taking the few steps to the door, he makes sure he’s smiling as he pulls it open.

David gives him a little wave and Patrick ushers him in. “Happy Birthday!”

“Thanks. I’m not sure if it’s really something to celebrate, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.” David is looking around the apartment and Patrick hopes the candles and flowers are serving their purpose. When David’s eyes land on him his expression is soft, his shy smile making Patrick feel like he’s at the precipice of the tallest hill of a rollercoaster just waiting to fall. It’s one thing to come to terms with feelings and wants, it’s quite another to act upon it all.

“Looks nice…” David says, his eyes looking Patrick up and down in a way that he’s never seen him do before. Okay, so, maybe David does know that this is a date after all? And Patrick immediately wishes he’d put on a darker blue shirt instead of this baby blue one as his whole body feels like an inferno.

More than a bit flustered, Patrick turns towards the kitchen and gives his meal prep an unnecessary once over. “Did you want some wine?” he asks David without turning around, willing the blush he feels creeping across his cheeks to fade before facing David again.

“Sure.” David’s voice comes from right behind Patrick and he feels a warm hand press into the small of his back. He has to grip the counter to find some balance as David leans over his shoulder to grab the bottle of red from the cabinet by his ear. “Did you want a glass?”

David is so close that his breath is like a warm breeze against Patrick’s temple and it makes him shiver. He should really turn around and make some sort of move, but he suddenly feels completely out of his depth and is frozen with indecision. David’s hand is still on his back and he’s waiting for an answer, so he just nods and David’s hand disappears and Patrick senses the moment is lost.

“Patrick?”

David is still standing right behind him, body so close that the sleeve of Patrick’s shirt brushes against the front of David’s sweatshirt when Patrick turns at the sound of his name. His eyes find David’s for a moment and David inches even closer and Patrick’s world suddenly begins to feel very, very small. There’s nothing in it, except for him and David and the ever decreasing space between them as David’s palm comes up to cup his cheek. Patrick’s eyes are closing, but he manages to sneak in a quick look at David’s lips right before he feels himself being kissed and that world he’d felt growing smaller, it’s exploding now. David’s lips are soft, gently urging, but not demanding and Patrick does his best to reciprocate, reaching his hand up to grasp David’s shoulder to steady himself.

Entirely too soon, he feels David pull back, but not far, the lips that had just upended Patrick’s world now forming words he can barely make out. “I ran into Stevie…”

The breath Patrick had been holding comes out in a quick, joyful huff and he leans back, his heartbeat erratic in his chest as he finally feels free to look at David the way he’s wanted to for weeks. “Remind me to thank her later,” he manages to say, his voice a bit rough as long buried emotions try to clog up his throat.

“You know, she had very specific ideas on how this night should go,” David teases, his hand still on Patrick’s cheek sliding further back to curl lightly around the back of his neck. Patrick’s eyes flutter shut and he has an internal battle with himself, wanting to feel David touch him like this everywhere, immediately, but also knowing that they should probably take things slow.

“I might need…” he hears himself say, but his words die on his tongue as David tips his head forward, bringing his forehead to rest against Patrick’s.

“To take things slow?”

David somehow knows what Patrick needs. He isn’t surprised by this, seeing as how they’ve had this undeniable connection since the day they met. They’ve been orbiting around one another so perfectly ever since, so why should this be any different?

“Yeah, but I did have some ideas of my own that are a little less scandalous.” Patrick leans in to kiss him then, welcoming the weight of David’s body as he’s pressed back into the counter. He practically groans into David’s mouth when he finally gets a hand into David’s hair, having wanted to feel the dark strands between his fingers for so long. The little tug he gives it makes David’s mouth fall open and he takes advantage, tentatively sliding his tongue along David’s, blissfully happy to discover that kissing David is absolutely nothing like kissing Rachel. He can only hope that David might be feeling something similar. That hope takes flight when David’s arm curls around his back in an attempt to get even closer.

That movement, unfortunately, sends the cutting board full of chopped onions and parsley behind them on the counter crashing to the floor. Instinctively, Patrick grips David harder, not sure in his kiss-hazed state what is happening, but sensing danger of some sort. David, however, is laughing, his entire body quaking against Patrick as he buries his face against his neck. As David continues to laugh, Patrick fully comes back to the present to see the remnants of his mise en place strewn about their feet. When David lifts his head, he’s smiling from ear to ear with cheeks still red from his fit of laughter.

“What exactly is funny about this?” he asks, locking his hands together around David’s waist to keep him close.

David looks down at the floor and back up at Patrick, “The garbage disposal was the one kitchen appliance I knew how to use before we met.”

Patrick has no idea what David is talking about. But he knows he wants to kiss David again, so he does, leaning in to press his lips into David’s smile.

Eventually, the food on the floor finds its way into the garbage disposal and David impresses Patrick with his newly perfected chopping skills as he prepares another onion and chiffonades the parsley. David blushes a bit after looking to Patrick for his approval and Patrick honestly doesn’t know how he’s supposed to contain the happiness he feels right now. It’s a lot. A whole heart full of a lot.

When the pasta sauce finally has all of its ingredients and is simmering away on the stove, Patrick finds himself being led by the hand to his couch. David gives him a gentle shove and Patrick obliges, smiling up at him as anticipation swirls in his belly. He can’t stop himself from reaching for David’s hips to drag him closer as David maneuvers himself into Patrick’s lap, which earns him a “tsk, tsk” from David once he’s settled.

“I’m the teacher now, Patrick. Do you think you can follow my lead?”

Nodding enthusiastically, Patrick lets his head fall into the cushion, his smile wide as David takes Patrick’s hands and weaves their fingers together. David leans in, his breath hot on Patrick’s lips as he whispers, “Lesson one”, kissing him soundly before Patrick can even think of a response.

* * *

 David proves to be a very good teacher. It takes a few lessons before Patrick feels comfortable taking the lead, but he makes it to Graduation Day as Valedictorian. And they’ll never admit any of this to Stevie, but using some of her suggestions earned them both some extra credit.

And yes, when they eventually move in together in one of the larger apartments upstairs, Stevie has a pair of oven mitts waiting for them on their stove, one blue and one black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who left lovely comments along the way on this one. Writing MC's can be hard and feedback means so much. I hope you enjoyed this fluffy little fic.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jess for the beta help! You can find me on tumblr at [language-of-love](https://language-of-love.tumblr.com/).


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